AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Jethro Del Bosque sighed and drew the red velvet hat with the fluffy white pompom off his head. He was beat after three hours of playing Santa to dozens of kids at the Clover City civic center.
He loved doing it, but it was draining. It was a good thing it was the slow period at work otherwise he’d never have the energy to do this every day for the month or so Santa appearance season.
It was maybe a silly thing to be proud of, but he was one of the most in-demand Santas in the city. He got hired for private parties, but his favorite events were the ones for the kids—especially those whose families received some kind of benefits like social security or food stamps or whatever.
He had a great memory and would keep a list of the things kids asked for in his head, jot them down during his breaks. Then some of the other volunteers would match up donated presents with the kids and made sure they got something they asked for on Christmas morning. Best part of the season, knowing he’d made a bunch of kids happy.
He smiled to himself as he pulled his white wig and beard off, careful not to crush the curls he carefully maintained. He’d still have to comb it out for tomorrow because the little ones especially did a number on the hair pieces, grabbing and pulling on them. All part of the job.
Most of the other volunteers had packed up and left—it was a busy time of year for most people and he didn’t mind picking up the last bits of mess from the party so other people could be home with their families—wrapping up presents, sending out holidays cards, decorating gingerbread houses or whatever it was families did these days. He wouldn’t know.
His parents had retired to Florida fifteen years ago, he wasn’t married, didn’t have any children. His siblings had all left for college and stayed away, rarely came back to their home town with their spouses and kids in tow. But he’d stayed, taken over the family business.
When he wasn’t being Clover City’s best Santa he was running Del Bosque’s Garden Center. Sure he sold wreaths and Christmas trees and poinsettias this time of year and his staff did some holiday arrangements for holiday parties but not a whole lot else.
He wasn’t really in a hurry to get home, empty except for his basset hounds Marigold and Rhodie.
Those dogs were his constant companions when he was working, trundling behind him on those squat solid legs of theirs, but they seemed to enjoy the winter break as much as he did. They did excellent log impressions on their bed by the radiator or in front of the fire when he’d lit one in the living room or up in his bedroom.
A swirl of dark green velvet and gleaming white fur out of the corner of his eye reminded him he wasn’t the only one who’d offered to be on clean-up crew tonight. He swore under his breath—not because he didn’t like his fellow straggler, but because he maybe liked her too much.
Sable Hollingsford was probably the most beautiful and sophisticated woman in the whole Clover City metro area and she was so out of his league it almost hurt. Almost but not really because even if she made his blood run hot under his Santa suit with her heart-shaped face, warm ivory skin, and huge golden hazel eyes, the woman was cold like the arctic tundra and he really wasn’t into ice princesses.
He liked warm, sweet women. Women with soft curves instead of sharp angles. Women who laughed hard and often instead of glaring at him from under sharp brows when he told jokes. Which was how Sable almost always looked at him—when she looked at him at all anyway, which wasn’t often.
Sable always showed up and worked hard at these events but she never seemed to enjoy herself. Always seemed to be in a hurry, bustling around.
Eh, bustling wasn’t the right word for a woman like Sable. Nah, her rich waist-length chestnut locks with their loose curls never had a hair out of place. It’s like she glided around the civic center without actually touching the ground. And while he was a sweaty over-heated mess by the end of the nights after spending hours underneath yards of velvet, acres of wig, and pounds of fake belly, she always looked as perfect leaving as she did arriving.
Maybe it helped that her outfit covered significantly less skin than his did. Not that it was inappropriate. It was probably one of the more staid elf costumes he’d seen over the years: the swishy skirt with its white fur trim brushed her knees and it had long sleeves and a high neck with a matching fur collar. She wore an elf hat too, though it didn’t look jaunty on her like it did on most people. Sable’s hat didn’t slouch; it wouldn’t dare.
Jethro caught himself staring as Sable picked up a discarded cupcake wrapper from the floor. Of course she didn’t bend over at the waist but bent her knees like a lady. Regardless, the movement still made her backside fill out her skirt a bit more.
He swore under his breath again, shook his head and dragged his gaze away. It wouldn’t do to have Santa perving on one of his elves.
Yes, some of the other women flirted with him, but not Sable. No, never Sable.
Feeling sort of like he was showing up at a convent in a trench coat with nothing on underneath but too overheated to not to, he unbuckled his thick black leather belt, stripped off the heavy coat and fake belly he wore. Now he was down to his tee that probably smelled pretty ripe and his red velvet pants.
He’d like to push those off too since now he felt like he was in a sauna from the waist down but he wouldn’t because Sable would probably faint. He also kept his suspenders on so there wouldn’t be any rude surprises. She’d probably have him arrested for indecent exposure—she’d get away with it too.
Her father was the biggest real estate developer in the state and it seemed like her mother was on the board of every charity and non-profit in town. The Hollingsfords were a Clover City institution.
To cut down on the temptation of looking at the untouchable woman, he started sweeping up at the opposite end of the big room. He’d gotten about a third of the way through when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Who the hell was calling him at nine o’clock on a Saturday night? Anyone he was friends with knew his evenings were booked this time of year. He’d have events every day through the next week until the last one on the twenty-third and then he’d probably sleep until Christmas morning—except to feed and let out Marigold and Rhodie of course.
Jethro slipped the phone from his pocket and checked the screen. Why was someone at Hive calling him?
First of all, they never called. That just wasn’t a thing that fetish clubs did for privacy reasons. Second, he’d already told Ian he wouldn’t be coming to the party tonight because he’d be wiped after this event and wouldn’t be up for showing anyone a good time.
Nevertheless he answered.
“You’ve got Del Bosque.”
“Jethro, hey, it’s Ian. I’ve got a huge favor to ask you.”
“Ask away.”
